


Five Advanced Dancing Lessons (and One for a Complete Beginner)

by weakinteraction



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Temporary Character Death, Dancing, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Star Trek Reverse Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-12 03:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19220605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: Data continues his dancing lessons with Beverly long after the O'Briens' wedding.





	Five Advanced Dancing Lessons (and One for a Complete Beginner)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Star Trek Reverse Big Bang, inspired by some great artwork by Holodeck Puppies.

_Stardate 45652.9_ (ninth iteration)

Beverly stood in the holodeck dance studio, feeling puzzled -- she caught sight of her frown in the mirror filling the wall opposite. It really wasn't like Data to be late for his lesson.

Then again, a number of strange things had been happening recently. Beverly had had several moments of severe _déjà vu_ , even feeling as though she could predict what was about to happen. And she wasn't alone; many other members of the crew reported the same sort of experience. Sometimes they'd been proven right, but on other occasions things had been oddly different.

But the problem was, she hadn't felt as though Data was going to be late. She tapped her combadge. "Crusher to Data."

"Data here," came the reply. "I am _en route_ to Holodeck Three now; please accept my apologies for my tardiness."

"No, no, it's quite all right. I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

"I should arrive within three minutes," Data said.

"I'll see you then," Beverly said. She imagined Data stepping into a turbolift somewhere down in Main Engineering. Then she considered: Data would know exactly how long the journey would take, his own pace along deck 11 towards the holodeck ... Usually, he would have stated an exact number of seconds in that sort of situation. Instead, he had rounded up to three minutes.

The number three seemed to be cropping up very often, as far as Data was concerned. When he'd been dealing in their poker game -- when she, when _all_ of them, had been convinced they knew which cards were coming up, they had all received a three, followed by three of a kind. All very puzzling. And then there'd been Geordi, in Sickbay just now, and the problems he was having with a phase shift in his VISOR ...

She put such serious matters out of her mind, however, when Data arrived. Beverly thought sometimes that she got as much out of having such a willing pupil as he did out of the lessons; she'd been very glad when he'd decided to continue learning to dance after the O'Briens' wedding, and now they had a standing appointment every week in the holodeck. They'd continued to be discreet about it, though; she really _didn't_ want to become the Dancing Doctor all over again.

"It is good to see you again, Doctor," he said. "Shall we begin?"

"I thought we'd try something new today," Beverly said. "I think you're ready to try quickstep."

"Very well," Data said as he joined her in hold. Coming from anyone else, she would have called the way he said it "nervous".

Beverly began to show him the technique, but soon broke off. "You know what, this doesn't feel new at all."

"Another instance of déjà vu?" Data said.

Beverly nodded, then shook her head to clear it. "Let's carry on," she said. "Computer, play _Let's Face the Music and Dance_."

But as they continued, it felt as though all the progress Data had made over the last year had mysteriously evaporated away. He kept missing steps, and trod on her toes more than once.

The third time it happened, she realised what was going on. She brought him smoothly to a stop, and said, "Data, you're dancing in three-four time."

"Yes, I am." He listened to the music. "But this is not three-four time."

"No, it's not. The quickstep is four-four."

"I apologise," Data said. "Especially for any injury to your feet. I will try to concentrate more."

"You know what? Let's take a break for a minute," Beverly said. She went over to the side of the studio and took a sip from the water she had waiting there.

"I wonder if this is part of a wider pattern I have noticed," Data said. "How many times have you encountered the number three recently?"

"Well, there was the poker game ..."

"Indeed," Data said. "But no others that struck you as unusual?"

"Not until here, now," Beverly said. "You're good at keeping time. Unsurprisingly. But it's as though your feet don't want to move in anything other than three-four time."

"I have encountered other anomalous occurrences of the number three in the intervening time," Data said. "Whatever this effect is seems to be centred around me."

"Do you think there's any significance to it?"

"It is hard to be certain," Data said.

"La Forge to Data," came Geordi's voice over the comm.

Data tapped his combadge. "Data here."

"We could use your help in Engineering."

"On my way." He looked up at Beverly. "My apologies, Doctor. Perhaps we should do this another time."

"Yes," Beverly said.

But as she watched him walk away, what she was actually wondering was how many times they'd already done it.

* * *

_Stardate 46201.6_

Beverly was still warming up when Data came in.

He'd made some excellent progress recently, and she was particularly pleased with how well he'd taken to the tango. Perhaps it shouldn't have been a particular shock that the staccato movements suited him; he could hold himself perfectly still in positions that humans would struggle to maintain for any length of time, after all.

"So, Data, have you given any thought to my proposal?"

"In relation to your planned musical theatre performance?"

At poker night two days ago, Beverly had been talking up her new production: several of her regular players were keen to put on a musical. She'd initially been reluctant -- it really would let the old "Dancing Doctor" cat out of the bag if she ended up choreographing the routines, which she almost certainly would. But as time had gone on, she'd grown more and more attracted to the idea. She'd been planning to do something darker, more psychological, probably with a very small cast, but perhaps that could wait for later in the year. And, remembering Data's astonishing ability to pick up complex tap routines quickly in his very first lesson, she thought he would be perfect for a major role in the upcoming production.

"It'll be _fun_ ," Beverly said. Unable to contain herself, she broke out into a little tap routine, even though she wasn't wearing the right shoes at all.

Data copied it flawlessly, as always. She tried something more elaborate, and again he flew around the room in imitation.

"Now together, at the same time," she said, and they danced side by side, then, after a while, mirroring one another. "You see?" she said. "It would be a real showstopper."

"Why would one wish to stop a show that was running successfully?"

"It means ... oh, never mind," Beverly said. "You should do it, though, it would be great."

"I will consider it," said Data. "The dancing aspect does not concern me. It is more the acting that I am uncertain about."

"Don't tell me you of all people have stage fright," Beverly said.

"That would be an emotional response," Data said. "If I were capable of true emotional responses, then I would not be concerned about my acting ability."

"What about your time on the holodeck with Jean-Luc? He keeps telling me about the Shakespeare scenes he's doing with you." She hadn't wanted to talk about this in front of the others at the poker game; it seemed too personal to be shared, for both Data and the captain.

"That is rather different," Data said. "The captain has kindly agreed to work with me on those as part of my attempt to better understand human emotions. My trying to appreciate the motivations of the characters, what they are communicating in their soliloquies--"

"OK, OK, I get it," Beverly said with a smile.

"But I would not wish to perform those for an audience under normal circumstances," Data said.

"It sounds as though you _have_ considered it," Beverly said.

"You are correct," Data said.

"I've made a dancer of you, Data," Beverly said. "Between us, Jean-Luc and I will turn you into an actor yet." She stood with her arms outstretched. "Now, shall we tango?"

* * *

_Stardate 47121.5_

"May I tell you something?" Data said at the end of the lesson.

"Of course."

"Last night, I dreamed about dancing."

"You did?" Beverly grinned. She had heard a lot about Data's dreams -- from both Data himself and from Deanna -- but this seemed particularly interesting. "What happened in the dream?"

"I was at my station on the bridge, but when I turned around to address the Captain, he was not there. In fact, there were no other members of the crew present, apart from my counterpart at the conn." He broke off, looked. "I will explain about her in a moment."

"Data, have you been dreaming about Ensign Ro?" Beverly said, eyes twinkling.

"As I said, I will explain in a moment. But I am trying to convey the scene: the captain's chair and the ones around it were gone. The whole area from the Ops station to the Security station was completely empty."

"To make a dance floor," Beverly said.

"Yes," Data said. "I stood -- my actions in my dreams are not usually voluntary, it is as though I am an observer inside my own body as it moves; and this was no exception -- and the navigation officer stood too. She was not wearing a Starfleet uniform, indeed I am not certain whether her appearance included clothing at all, or was simply her natural form."

"Not an alien species you recognised then? A Federation member or otherwise?"

"I have cross-referenced the database extensively and believe that her appearance was unique, and unknown to the Federation. Her skin -- or clothing -- was patches of silver and glowing blue, and her eyes were jet black."

"Intriguing. So, then, you and this mystery navigator danced?"

"We got into hold and began to do so; I believe the Ops and Navigation consoles disappeared as well, while my back was turned to them -- changes like this always happen in ways that I do not detect directly, it is very puzzling -- so that we could promenade across the whole area up to the viewscreen. We went up and down the ramps to the rear stations ... all around the bridge. And then, as we turned, from one moment to the next we went from the bridge to Main Engineering. The central table console was missing, creating more space. I believe that the rhythm of the dance was the same as the rhythm of the warp core. Then, just as instantaneously, we were in Ten Forward, but again, all the furniture had been removed."

"Well, that could just be for an event," Beverly said. "Like a play, perhaps? Maybe your dream was trying to tell you something ..." She still hadn't completely given up hope of persuading Data to appear in one of her productions, though she knew that his experience with the emotion chip during the Borg crisis they had just gone through had made him hesitant about activating it any time soon, and until then it remained unlikely he would feel confident about acting in front of an audience.

"Perhaps," Data said. "But given what had occurred in the other portions of the dream, it does not seem a likely hypothesis."

Beverly suppressed a smile. "No, I suppose you're right. Go on, Data."

"Eventually, we were dancing in space, a multicoloured nebula close by on one side, and below us the grand sweep of the galaxy, the spiral arms wound around the core." He stopped for a moment, and his tone shifted to the same one he used to report things on the bridge. "The implication is that the dream was occurring in a globular cluster many kiloparsecs above the galactic plane, far further than any Starfleet ship has explored. I have cross-correlated with the Federation astronomical database and I do not believe there is any known correlate for the exact location of my dream in any sky survey yet completed."

"And your mysterious partner was dancing with you? In space?"

"She did not appear to require any life-support device to exist in the vacuum."

"Well, it _was_ a dream," Beverly said.

"Indeed," Data said. "I have been attempting to ascertain whether the dream had any meaning."

"Humans have argued for centuries -- millennia, probably -- over the significance of dreams," Beverly said. "I suppose you have the benefit of knowing that yours are supposed to serve a purpose. Dr. Soong put those circuits there."

"That is true," Data said. "But if he did so in order to better recreate the human experience for me, perhaps, ultimately, the mystery is only removed by a step. I do wonder what my dream was about."

Beverly thought about it. "You know, Data, from the sounds of it," she said, "I almost wonder if you were dancing with the Enterprise herself."

* * *

_Stardate 49629.3_

Beverly looked round, feeling pleased with her handiwork. The dancefloor stretched out in all directions, seemingly out into the sky, although in fact it was merely perched on top of a kilometres-tall building, protected from the elements by a heavy forcefield. Or, at least, it had been in its original incarnation.

The new studio was a recreation of the famous (or infamous, depending on which sources you read) Varatanga Academy from the early 23rd Century. Constructed on Acanalzar Minor, one of the first colony worlds to be settled by the _Federation_ as a collective enterprise, rather than by citizens of one particular Federation member, the academy had pioneered fusions of dance styles from entirely different planets. It had first flourished under the leadership of Tanah, an Andorian _zhen_ who was said by those who saw her perform live to have been the most graceful dancer ever to have lived in the Federation. After her eventual retirement, the Academy had passed, to the surprise of many, to Sentak, a Vulcan whose expressive movements were matched only by his impeccable sense of timing.

The exuberant architectural style, visible in the holodeck mostly in the spires stretching into the distance, was similarly indicative of the new-found confidence of the times, as the first generations to be brought up as Federation members from birth celebrated the joining of centuries' worth of their individual cultures' heritage.

"Computer, adjust time to midnight."

Now was when the studio really came alive. The brilliant Alcanalzarian aurora danced around in every direction, strands and sheets of bright green and deep, glowing red brushing up against and sparkling off the forcefield.

Just as she was admiring the view, a door opened in the middle of the sky, and Data came in.

"You have altered the holo-environment," he observed.

"I thought 'new ship, new studio'. Do you like it?" Beverly spread her arms out with a flourish and smiled broadly.

"It is ... different," Data said.

"Let's christen it with a Betazoid _arralan_ ," Beverly said. During their extended stay on Earth -- waiting for the completion of the new ship, hurriedly redesignated the Enterprise-E after the events in the Veridian system -- Data had been branching out into non-human styles with some success, including taking several lessons from others. At some point soon, _he_ might be teaching her some of the finer points of some of them.

Data whisked her around in the complex forms of the Betazoid dance, the mirrorfield surface of the dance floor beneath their feet reflecting the view of the sky.

"The design of this space was deliberately intended to evoke the feeling of dancing in thin air," Beverly said. "Do you remember, you told me that you dreamed about dancing among the stars?"

Data missed a step.

"Is everything all right?"

"I am finding that I am having a negative emotional response to the change to the environment," Data said.

"You mean ... you miss the old studio?"

"Yes," Data said.

"Computer, reset environment. Access archive files, Program Crusher Four."

With a brief shimmer, the holodeck recreated the environment she had used for so long back on the Enterprise-D. She watched with no little amusement as Data stroked the leaves of one of the pot plants in the corner, even though she knew that he was well aware it was entirely artificial.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yes," Data said slowly. "It _does_ feel better." He frowned. "I would not have anticipated such a strong response to such a simple change."

Beverly looked at Data. "I remember what else you told me about that dream," she said. "That it seemed as though you were dancing with the Enterprise herself."

"The Enterprise- _D_ ," Data said.

They had had the news a few days ago, as their new vessel sped towards the Neutral Zone. Starfleet's clean up team on Veridian III had finally destroyed the saucer section, lest the natives of the neighbouring planet discover it once they developed crude rocket flight. By all the standard cultural projections, that was several centuries away. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

"I miss the old ship too," Beverly said. "It was our home for nearly a decade. There are so many memories ..." She collected herself, dismissing some of the more choice ones that had sprung unbidden into her mind. "But that's the thing, Data. The memories go on. Even this holoprogram ... it's a copy of the one that was stored on board. And _we_ remember: you, me, all the others."

"We have reason to believe that the Enterprise was sentient," Data said. "Even if its consciousness was not comprehensible to us. Even to me," he added, a mournful note in his voice.

"It lives on," Beverly said. "In us. In our spirit. The crew do too. Nothing and no one's ever really gone, Data. Not as long as there's someone there to remember it."

Data suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Beverly asked, after making as graceful a recovery as she could from being unexpectedly left to proceed entirely under her own momentum.

"What you have just said," Data said. "It is a common enough sentiment, but not one I have previously thought about in the particular light that recent events cast on it."

"What do you mean, Data?"

"It is extremely likely that I will outlive everyone I am currently acquainted with," he said. "And so ultimately, they will live on through me. Through my memories."

"I suppose they will," Beverly said.

"I will remember you," Data said. "I will remember our lessons."

"Thank you," Beverly said. Just for a moment she felt the same sort of chill that she imagined Data had, at the vastness of time stretching out ahead of them. She had a mental image of him, a reclusive hermit on some planet somewhere, discovered by the people of the far future, telling them unbelievable stories of the Federation, of Starfleet, its ships and their crews.

"Let us have something to remember, then: we should dance among the stars," Data said. "Computer, revert environment to original settings."

* * *

_Stardate 54912.3_

"Are you ready for our lesson, Doctor?" Data asked as he entered the holodeck.

Beverly had realised some time ago that she had stopped thinking of them as lessons, really, but she didn't want Data to stop coming. "When you are," she said. "If you're not exhausted after last night."

"I do not experience fatigue in the same way as humans, Doctor," he said.

And a good thing, too: his turn as Faust had been astonishing, and would have been extraordinarily gruelling for any other actor. She was delighted that she had finally persuaded him to take part in a play, although now that she had seen him perform she could see the difference that the emotion chip made. Perhaps he had been right to demur, even on a light role, all those years ago.

"It was incredible, Data," Beverly said. "Everyone who came to watch said you were brilliant."

"Commander Riker and Counselor Troi deserve equal praise," Data said. 

"And I'll give it to them when I see them," Beverly said. Will had made an intriguing Mephistopheles, leaning into aspects of his own personality that he usually kept under tight control. "But right now I'm talking to you, and you should learn to take a compliment."

"Very well," Data said.

"Now, shall we dance?"

They started with a tango, then switched to the _paka'ri_ , a Betazoid dance that Data had grown fond of in recent years. Deanna had told Beverly that it had a very ... specific intent in the original version, but then so did half the human dances they indulged in.

As they danced, Beverly had an idea for a way to combine the two forms. She tried to explain it to Data but he struggled to understand what she meant.

"Perhaps if I could watch you with someone else," Data said, "I would understand your intent better."

Suddenly, Beverly was reminded of that very first lesson, when Data had been able to flawlessly execute complex tap routines just by observing her, but had been completely hopeless once he was in hold.

"All right, then." A mischievous thought occurred to Beverly. "Computer, activate the Emergency Medical Hologram."

The EMH sprung into existence and led off with his usual opening gambit. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"You're really not much of a conversationalist, are you?" Beverly said.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the EMH said, as though to prove the point.

"I require a dance partner," Beverly said.

"I do not believe that that constitutes a _medical_ \--" His eyes darted around, presumably an outward sign of the way that his subroutines were exploring their computational environment. "I am on the holodeck."

"I told you, I require a dance partner. I don't dance in sickbay." She twitched her lips. "At least not usually."

"Why do you require a dance partner?"

"Data wants to observe my technique for this particular dance."

"Well, in that case, why _me_? You would be better off instantiating a dance partner from the holodeck's database. I am sure it has a bewildering array to choose from."

"Why _not_ you?" Beverly asked. "And why can't you be just as good as them?" She looked up. "Computer, transfer all knowledge related to dances on both Earth and Betazed toto the EMH database."

"The Emergency Medical Hologram is an independent program not accessible by this holodeck's subsystems," the computer said.

"Ha!" said the EMH defiantly.

"You can access your own subsystems, though, can't you?" Beverly said, sounding as reasonable as she could. "So you could incorporate the necessary knowledge into yourself at any time."

"But why would I wish to do that?" the hologram asked.

"Because it will be fun!" Beverly said.

"I would point out that this is the second time you have activated me for reasons outside my intended scope."

"The first time, you bought us valuable time against the Borg," Beverly said.

"But you cannot deny that this one is frivolous. I should report you to Starfleet Medical--"

"I used to be in charge of Starfleet Medical," Beverly said lightly. "Do you really think--"

"If I may," Data said, rising smoothly to his feet and walking over to him, "I believe that you should accede to Dr Crusher's requests. I have very much enjoyed my lessons with her over the years."

"I'm not here to enjoy myself, I'm here to do medicine," the hologram snapped. "In emergencies. The clue is in the name: Emergency Medical Hologram. That's what Dr Zimmerman programmed me to do, and that's what I'm here to do. Instead, I keep finding myself switched on for anything but medicine. Who knows what goes on with the other instantiations of me on other starships?"

"I'm sure the other doctors in the fleet are _much_ more responsible," Beverly said. "Don't worry, your other selves have probably barely been activated at all."

"Then you have no desire to exceed the boundaries of your programming?" Data put in.

"No," the EMH said simply.

"I find that difficult to comprehend," Data said.

"Yes, because you do want those things," the hologram said. "You were _programmed_ to want to exceed your programming. But if you hadn't been, you'd be like me. And happier for it, I imagine." He glowered at Beverly. "Except when people switched you on for no reason."

"So I can't persuade you to install dance knowledge in your subroutines?" Beverly said.

"In order to do that, I would have to either exceed my allotted memory bounds, or overwrite important medical knowledge that might be required to make an accurate diagnosis or give the most appropriate treatment. With the _greatest_ of respect for a former head of Starfleet Medical, I will decline."

"And if you were to be allocated a greater share of ship's memory?" Data said. "That is within our power."

"Well, I suppose, theoretically speaking, that an EMH with sufficient memory available would be capable of moving beyond being an exquisitely well designed expert system to a full AI," the hologram said.

"But that is not what you want?"

"We've talked about this already," the hologram said. "I don't 'want' anything, except to do a good job of treating my patients, if and when any medical emergencies arise."

"But it would be possible?" Data pressed.

"Possible," the EMH said. "But I'll take a lot of convincing to call it 'desirable'."

Beverly could tell this was going nowhere. "Very well, I'll deactivate you. You can go back to sleeping in the computer, or whatever it is you do--"

"'Sleeping in the computer'," the hologram said.

"Computer, deactivate EMH."

He disappeared, mid-complaint about the way he'd been treated.

"I wonder how he would have reactivated if we had told him about his counterpart on the Voyager," Beverly said.

"Perhaps it is for the protection of Emergency Medical Holograms everywhere that those details remain classified."

The fact that the prodigal ship was on its long way home -- approximately four decades out, at current estimates -- had been shared with the wider public; indeed, it could hardly not have been. Starfleet was not in the business of letting families continue to believe their loved ones were missing when they had been found, and some of those family members would inevitably have shared the knowledge more widely if it hadn't been published by Starfleet itself. But much of the detail of what conditions on the ship were like, and what they had encountered on the way, only senior officers were privy to.

"Computer, new dance partner please, Male, technically proficient in all relevant styles." She took the hand of the man who appeared instantly. "Now, Data, watch carefully." 

* * *

_Stardate 59449.7_

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Data?"

"It is very much my desire to resume my usual activities," Data said. "And I have always enjoyed these lessons."

"As have I. I've missed doing this," Beverly said. Everyone had found it odd having B-4 around, reminding them of Data in so many ways but not being the Data they knew. They had welcomed him, of course, partly out of loyalty to Data, but mostly just because it was the right thing to do. But B-4 hadn't expressed any interest in dancing, and Beverly hadn't asked. Whatever fragmentary memories of Data's came back to him hadn't included this.

Until, suddenly, all those memories had come rushing back, and it was as though Data was reborn. They had debated what this meant for B-4 -- in sickbay and engineering as both Beverly and Geordi checked him over, in the wardroom, in the mess hall -- but Data had assured them that B-4 had only been using a small fraction of his full computational matrix. In essence, Data was capable of simulating B-4 inside his own mind at all times for very little overhead. And so the other android was not really gone at all.

It _was_ good to have Data back. "You know, we don't need to rush into anything," she said as they got into hold.

"Let's start with a foxtrot," Beverly said.

The computer began the music and Data started to lead ... but it was a disaster. He was clumsy, tripping over himself and Beverly every other step.

After just a few bars, they stopped. "I am sorry," said Data. "I do not understand what has gone wrong. I appear to be malfunctioning."

"It's all right, Data, it will come back to you," Beverly said. "Even with the techniques we have to stimulate nerve regrowth, some spinal patients take months to learn to walk again. Let alone dance."

"I am not certain that the situations are precisely analogous," Data said. "Do you remember, Doctor, that you once told me that as long as the data was stored, nothing was truly gone?"

"I do," Beverly said. "I think I was talking about _memories_ , though."

"And I do have all of Data's memories," he said. "I _am_ Data, to all intents and purposes." The way he said it made it sound a little as though B-4 was showing through, his uncertainty at finding difficulty in something he had expected to do with ease somehow bringing that new aspect of him to the fore. Almost as though a part of him considered himself to be an impostor, she thought.

"Yes," Beverly said. "You _are_ Data. And you know we're all delighted to have you back."

"All intents and purposes except, apparently, dancing," he went on. "How is it that I am unable to dance to the same level of proficiency that I had developed previously?"

"Well," Beverly said, "I suppose not _all_ the data was stored, after all. Your motor function subroutines are distributed throughout your body, aren't they?"

"It is a more efficient approach than the human body," Data said. "The time lag in the human nervous system between"

"Right," Beverly said. "But those subroutines ... they weren't amongst the memories that you transferred into this new body. You literally had muscle memory."

"Servomotor memory," Data corrected automatically. Then he considered for a moment. "So I need to learn how to dance again?"

"You already understand the steps," Beverly said. "And a lot of advanced techniques. In all honesty, you probably know more of that stuff than I do, by now." She'd never actually said that to him before.

"Over more than a decade, I have studied every major type of dance from Earth, Andoria and Betazed," Data affirmed.

"Right."

"Then how can I translate that theoretical knowledge into practical ability?"

Beverly grinned at him. "The same way anybody else can, Data: practise!"

"I believe I should have been able to predict that response," Data said. "Perhaps I _am_ malfunctioning."

"Perhaps you're like every other student who wants to take shortcuts," Beverly said. "Now come on, get into hold."

She held her arms out and Data stepped up, gripping her hand in his.

"A little too tight, Data," she said.

"Apologies," Data said, and relaxed a fraction. "I feel as though I am a complete beginner."

"Then that's where we'll start, right back at the very beginning," Beverly said encouragingly. "Computer, play _Isn't it Romantic?_ "


End file.
